Diva 02 _ Diva Takes the Cake, The (33 page)
Read Diva 02 _ Diva Takes the Cake, The Online
Authors: Krista Davis
Tags: #Winston; Sophie (Fictitious Character), #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #General, #Mystery Fiction, #Women Cooks, #Large Type Books, #Cookery, #Mystery, #Divorced Women, #Cooking, #Divorced Women - Crimes Against, #Weddings, #Crimes Against, #Sisters
Hannah pulled me into the family room and whispered, “Phoebe and Joel aren’t getting along at all. I’d really like them to stay another couple of days so they can work on patching things up, but the hotel was getting expensive for them. Would you mind if they stayed here? They checked out of the hotel this morning . . .”
I assured her that was fine and sent her upstairs to change the linens on the beds. Hannah promptly enlisted Humphrey’s help, and the two of them disappeared upstairs.
I ventured into the sunroom and looked out at the backyard, thinking about the open drawers and Stan and Emily and the intruder. The sun was setting, and my yard was so tranquil I resented the fact that we couldn’t use it. It would have been a perfect night to cook out and build a blazing fire in the fire pit.
I shook myself out of what couldn’t be and stumbled to the kitchen. Determined not to let my ankles and other bruises spoil our fun, I whipped up a batch of frozen mar garitas and poured them into heavy, bubbled glasses from Mexico.
Addressing Phoebe, I said, “You and Joel are more than welcome to stay here.”
Phoebe thanked me but had hardly gotten the words out when Tucker said, “How about me?”
He looked so pathetic I could hardly say no. Besides, I thought we’d better keep an eye on him. He didn’t seem well to me. “You, too, Tucker. Go upstairs and tell Hannah to make up a bed for you.”
Obediently, he rose and trudged toward the foyer. He stopped midway, turned back, and hugged me. But instead of heading upstairs, he wandered to the sunroom.
“I’m worried about him.” Phoebe handed a drink to Joel. “Have you seen him like this before?”
“Dad brought him home late at night a couple of times, but he was always peppy and arrogant,” said Joel. “Nothing ever got to him.”
“Something got to him today.” I wished Wolf and I were in good standing so I could phone him and find out what had happened to Tucker.
“Tucker?” I called.
He reappeared, dragging his duffel bag.
“Did you check out of the hotel already?” I couldn’t help thinking something wasn’t quite right. Tucker, who never rose before noon, had been here when I showered but I couldn’t recall him arriving. “You slept here last night, didn’t you?”
“I meant to sleep on a chaise in the backyard. But who knew it could be so cold in the summer?”
“So that was you I saw leaving through the back gate?”
His shoulders sagged. “You’ll find out sooner or later, I guess. I’ve been sleeping in the Spider. Not much legroom.”
“So you sneaked inside and slept upstairs last night?”
He shrugged. “The kitchen door was unlocked. You, Hannah, and Jen were dead to the world and Daisy likes me, so I prowled about a bit until I found an empty bed. Like Goldilocks. I’m family. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Actually, I didn’t mind. But I found it alarming that he’d so easily spent the night in my house without any of us realizing it.
Hobbling like a broken old man, he dragged his duffel bag through the kitchen and disappeared into the foyer.
I threw a fresh tablecloth over the kitchen table and limped to the dining room to filch one of the gorgeous wedding centerpieces. I asked Phoebe if she would carry a couple upstairs to the bedrooms to brighten them up.
When she left the kitchen, Joel stood, clutching his margarita. “Should I bring the grill around here?”
I kept a lookout for Wolf while Joel ducked into the backyard to roll the grill into the service alley by the kitchen. I lifted the yellow tape so he could slide it underneath, fervently hoping Wolf wouldn’t return at that moment.
He positioned it close to the door. “Do you grill a lot?” I asked.
He held tongs over his head like a warrior. “I am the Grill Meister!”
While he took charge of the grill, I plunked small potatoes into a pot to cook. I chopped onions and pickles and hard-boiled eggs and slid them into a big bowl. I added horseradish mustard and mayonnaise. All it needed now were the potatoes for a warm German potato salad. I found leftover cooked asparagus and made a quick tossed salad with fresh tomatoes and greens.
The others returned in time to finish setting the table. Tucker still seemed out of sorts, but I noticed that he sipped at a margarita and took that as a good sign.
I should have been full, but my mouth watered at the scent of the seasonings in the bratwurst. I drained the potatoes, sliced them, and tossed them in the bowl.
Due to Tucker’s fragile state, we chose not to talk about the murders over dinner. A conversation about plays and favorite movies kept it lively, but Tucker barely spoke.
After we cleaned up, I begged off and went up to bed early to catch up on sleep. But when I woke in the middle of the night and walked down to the kitchen for a drink, I discovered Tucker in the sunroom. Instead of his usual slouch, Tucker sat on the settee with his knees drawn up to his chin. I plopped into the chair next to him. He didn’t change the angle of his head, but even in the dim light, I could see his eyes rotate toward me.
“I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but no one has ever accused me of murder before. This is a life experience I could have done without.”
I glanced out at the backyard. “If you had been awake, you would have had a perfect view of the killer coming and going from the shed.”
He shifted his head backward and sighed.
“Tucker Hensley! You did see something.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
From
“Ask Natasha”
:Dear Natasha,I love your show and never miss it. I adored the centerpieces that light up underneath the flowers and make the vases glow. My florist thinks I’m nuts and says he’s never heard of a light that can go underwater.—Elegant Bride in ElonDear Elegant Bride,Submersible LED cubes and Floralytes add an unexpected punch of light and color in unlikely places. Vase illuminator bases that provide an uplight through clear vases are also fantastic. Surprise your guests with lighted balloons scattered among helium balloons. They’re a great way to flank an entrance or a buffet table. Visit
http://www.save-on-crafts.com/partyideas.html.—Natasha
Tucker closed his eyes, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. I leaned back against the cushion. He had to be protecting someone. Tucker would be the first to rat on someone else if it would keep him out of trouble. Who would he protect? “Hannah?”
“Yes,” he said drolly, “the bride was running through the house in her wedding gown slashing people.”
Did he think he was helping Hannah by not mentioning that he saw Craig? “You know that Hannah saw Craig leave the shed.”
“Like I care about Craig.” He unwound his legs and set his bare feet on the floor. “I can’t imagine what Hannah sees in him. The man is like a bowling pin—smooth, bald, and dull.”
He stretched out and draped his arms across the back of the settee. “I don’t know what to do but stand trial. They can’t convict me because I didn’t kill him.”
Tucker had relaxed considerably since I found him. Nothing bothered him for long. He went his merry way in life, unconcerned about consequences. Which made it all the more extraordinary that he would be willing to take the rap for someone else. I ticked through the names of the bridesmaids in my mind. Had he taken up with one of them? Darby! No, she and Kevin clearly had a thing for each other. Phoebe? Now that Phoebe and Joel were arguing, was Tucker such a worm that he would move in on her? But I’d forgotten that Tucker knew Joel and had introduced them. I leaned forward, not three feet from his face. “Joel.”
The Adam’s apple bobbed again.
“You saw Joel go into the shed with Stan?”
“Honestly, Sophie, I really was asleep. I didn’t see anything.”
“Then I don’t get it. You’re protecting someone, but you hardly know anyone involved.”
He licked his lips and chewed on the lower one.
“Spit it out. You know you’re dying to tell someone.”
He hunched forward, bracing his arms on his knees. “You know about Joel’s family losing their business, right?”
“And his dad died.”
“You’re simplifying things. Joel’s dad had a shipment of majorly expensive pink diamonds coming into the country. The kind of stuff they show to customers in private back rooms of the highest-end jewelry companies. Capiche? You know anything about jewelry couriers?”
“Yes, of course, I buy diamonds by the gross.”
“Very funny. There are two ways to go. You can hire somebody with an armored van, but there are cats on the lookout for those. The other way is kind of like a spy—you hire someone who blends in and won’t attract any attention, and that’s what Joel’s father did. He contracted with an independent guy he’d used before. The guy goes to Miami to pick up the shipment, but on his way back, when he stops for gas, somebody bashes him over the head—bad, real bad. The cops find his car abandoned, no jewelry inside. But now the courier is paralyzed—permanently disabled, and his family accuses Joel’s dad of setting up the heist and sues him. Between the loss of the diamonds, the lawsuit, and the demise of the family business, his dad was under unbelievable stress and had a coronary.”
He sat back, satisfied and clearly finished with his sad story.
I squinted at him. Hannah had lost her engagement ring with the pink diamond before Tucker showed up. Joel must have told him the stone was a pink diamond. “It’s improbable that Hannah’s diamond was one of the stolen ones and, supposing it was, why would Joel kill Stan over it? There must be lots of pink diamonds in the world. When did the robbery take place?”
“About five years ago.”
“Oh, right, like the diamonds haven’t changed hands a few times since then? I hardly think they’re sitting in a pot somewhere.”
His mouth twisted upward on one side. “Rocks like that aren’t easy to unload. You have to hire somebody to break them down into smaller stones if you want to sell them.”
I couldn’t follow his reasoning. “You think Joel killed Stan and Emily because Craig gave Hannah a pink diamond?” Had he lost his mind? That didn’t make any sense at all.
“I’ve been following Joel.”
“Is that why you came here? To spy on Joel?”
“Of course not. I’ve been a little down on my luck—barred from some casinos. Weddings are good hunting ground for poker games. Failing that, they’re also great places to meet women—and their mothers eager to marry them off.”
“Aren’t you a little bit ashamed for being such a parasite?”
“Is that how you see me? I’m not a common thief who would kill for a lousy $5,000.”
“You took the tiaras.”
“That’s different. I thought the stones belonged to Joel. Don’t you see, Sophie? I make the women happy, and let’s face it, the men would lose their poker money to someone else if not to me. I provide . . . entertainment and amusement. I bring joy into their lives.”
“Like moonshine. They’re happy for a short time, and the next day you’re like a nightmarish hangover.”
“My, but you’ve become cynical since your divorce from Mars.”
“Me? You’ve lost all semblance of sanity, living off other people’s hopes and thinking Joel killed Stan because of Hannah’s ring.”
“You don’t know Joel like I do. I’ve seen how he looks at Craig and his family. And then when Craig showed up with those tiaras with pink stones in them, I thought Joel would blow a gasket. In fact, I think he did—that’s when he murdered Stan. Joel must have thought he was avenging his dad and his family.”
“Not a chance,” I protested. “Joel knew the tiaras were fake. Did you tell the cops your pathetic theory?”
He rubbed both hands over his face. “I owe Joel’s dad. He pulled me out of some bad messes. The least I can do is save his kid.”
Joel’s father must have been an impressive person to inspire such loyalty in Tucker. I never would have expected callous Tucker to put himself at risk for anyone else. Maybe he wasn’t as shallow as I’d thought all these years.
With mixed feelings about Tucker, and wondering about Joel, I shoved off to bed.
In the morning, I was the first one downstairs. I wore a comfortable skort and a sleeveless top that my mother would have approved because the V-neck dipped a skosh lower than usual for me. My ankles, hideous blues and purples, felt much better than they looked. My shoulder had become stiff during the night, but I thought it would loosen up as I moved around.
I brewed a pot of Hannah’s favorite Mystic Monk coffee, and the heavenly aroma floated through the kitchen immediately.
Joel emerged from the foyer in shorts and a T-shirt, yawning. “Thanks for putting us up. The hotel was great but a little pricey. Besides, it’s so cool to stay in a house that was here during the Civil War. I can just imagine it. When you watch a movie, it’s all a set. But this is the real thing—living history.”
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